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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680351">Comfort</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moth1988/pseuds/Moth1988'>Moth1988</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sam &amp; Max</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Max is the one being comforted in this one, One Shot, That One Time Max Died, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:07:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moth1988/pseuds/Moth1988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Max is having trouble coping with Sam's death in the other dimension, and Sam can relate far too well. Although, he doesn't think he's ever seen Max cry...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Max/Sam (Sam &amp; Max)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Comfort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You know, before now, he wasn't even sure the lagomorph <em>could</em> cry.</p><p>  Sure, he'd seen the occasional burst of flamboyant emotion, usually characterized by high-pitched obnoxious whining and crocodile tears that couldn't fool even the most empathetic of folks. But genuine, heart-felt crying? That's the most un-Max thing he'd ever heard of, and he'd known his little buddy for as long as he could remember. But now, as his smaller friend clings to his shirt and chokes out these unnerving and unmistakably <em>real</em> sobs and sniffles, Sam isn't so sure this is just a play for attention.</p><p>  Nervously; the canine puts one hand on his pal's trembling back and, ashamedly so, stays silent. He's... never been too good with this kind of thing. Comfort isn't exactly his specialty, and even so, he's usually the most emotional out of the two. He's definitely never had to comfort Max. Calm him down, sure, but comfort him through a particularly intense bout of sobbing? That's unfamiliar to him.</p><p>  "Uhm.." He coughs and clears his throat, more so from surprise than any sort of discomfort he's experiencing. That and to prepare himself; he's really not too sure of what to say.</p><p>  Only a few minutes ago, Max had been completely fine. Next thing he knew, his little buddy was clinging onto him and bawling his eyes out. They had been talking about something or another, something about their next case? Current case? He was tired, he really couldn't quite remember. They were rambling on about crime-fighting, either way. One thing he did know, however, was that Max had been a bit off for about a week now. Ever since he... got back. He'd never forget the grin on his little friend's face when he saw him from inside of that elevator, right after he'd watched said best friend disappear into an ominous and daunting nothingness. But he really tried hard not to think about it too much, tried not to think about it like it was a loss. A <em>death</em>. It was far too existential for his taste, especially when Max was right here in front of him. Right <em>here</em>, right <em>now</em>. He tried to convince himself that the now was all that really mattered in the grand scheme of things, but he could never quite shake the feeling of unnerve.</p><p>  Hell, Max had been even more rambunctious than usual lately, or perhaps "<em>violent</em>" was a better word to describe his volatile little friend. Max really seemed just as chaotic as ever, shooting things and blowing up just about every inanimate thing he could get his hands on. As much as Sam wished to just leave it at that, he wasn't brainless. He could see the moments when Max's smile would falter just a tiny bit after holding it for too long, or a twitch in his grin whenever he thought Sam wasn't looking, or like when he didn't recover as quickly to a jab, no matter how deserved it was. Sam could tell something was <em>off</em> with his friend, but he had just assumed it was just a... dimensional lag, of sorts.</p><p>  It had been dusk when they were talking in their conjoined bed, same as ever. There was a strange aura looming about, but he chocked that up, too. Maybe it was something psychic, lingering in the air from the week prior. Sam really didn't know, and wasn't sure that he'd really <em>wanted</em> to. He was perfectly content to continue on in blissful ignorance.</p><p>  He had stripped down from his hat, tie, and coat, but still wore his loosely-fitting dress pants and wrinkled dress shirt. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he had rambled on and on to his little friend about the criminal they had been tracking down that day. Max had been looking awfully distracted, though, silent and playing with the sheets on the bed, pinching the cotton and rolling it between his small fingers. Once the night finally fell, Max only became more distant. The lagomorph had started to tremble and glance around the room uncomfortably, smile twitching and faltering. Glancing out of the window every now and again, he was fumbling with his hands and only replying in brisk answers to every other thing Sam had said.</p><p>  A lightning storm was looming, but he'd never known Max to not enjoy a good storm. He'd certainly never known Max to have a <em>fear</em> of them, as his behavior had been suggesting. Was that it? The reason Max had been so despondent the past hour?</p><p>  Before Sam was able to come to a conclusion, quick as ever, a rumble of thunder had boomed loud in the distance. Max had let out a little shriek as he jumped in surprise. Sam was just about to chuckle and tease his little buddy, when the lagomorph had latched onto him with shaking hands. Max had grasped onto the worn fabric of the canine's shirt for dear life before he buried his face into it and begun to snivel and whimper quietly before dissolving completely into tears and sobs.</p><p>  It was... disarming, to say the least. But perhaps that wasn't the right word. Upsetting? Whatever it was, it made Sam's insides twist and turn uncomfortably, and made something inside of him boil with a repressed anger born out of a long-held instinct to protect his little friend. Whoever did this to his little buddy, he swore was going to get much more than just a piece of his mind.</p><p>  More than anything, as unsettling and unfamiliar as this all was, Sam just wanted to see his little buddy smile that deranged, borderline-psychotic smile again.</p><p>  Sam starts to slowly and methodically rub that little space between Max's ears that he loves so much. Hell, he usually doesn't even try to bite his hand off, that's how much he enjoys it! He only tries that sometimes, when he's feeling particularly frisky. Usually, the gesture usually makes him emit this strange, low rumbling sound from his chest, reminiscent of a purr. Or... teeth? Did it emit from those horribly predatory teeth of his? The sound is almost like a car engine, Sam contemplates briefly, before shaking his head and focusing once more on the task at hand. This time around, the gentle motion only makes Max clutch a little tighter to him, leaning into his touch with a strangled whining sound that makes his heart drop straight into his stomach. "Little Buddy?" Sam starts, slowly and carefully. He'd never forgive himself if he upset Max any further right now, especially in this moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability.</p><p>  Max whines again in response, and his sobs have begun to dissipate into more of a stuttering hiccup and sniffle routine. The canine gulps down his own nervousness and moves his hand to Max's back, stroking in a familiar up-and-down fashion. Simple, yet effective. "I'm here for ya, buddy..." He holds him for a few moments longer in silence until Max is just left sniffing and his grip loosens just a touch. "Do you wanna talk about it?"</p><p>  Sam wholeheartedly expects Max to shake his head silently and maybe even drift off into a shaky slumber, to awake in the morning and pretend none of this had ever happened, but it's not that easy. He knows <em>that</em>, if nothing else. Max pulls away from Sam's chest, and he feels his canine heart stutter when he actually gets a good look at him. The lagomorph's cheeks are flushed, even through the thin layer of fluffy white fur, and his eyes are puffy and glistening. His nose is running almost comically and Sam pulls out his conveniently-placed handkerchief and hands it to his small friend, who then proceeds to wipe his nose with it and throw it aside into an unknown location. Guess he won't be getting that back.</p><p>  To sum it up neatly; his little buddy looks absolutely distraught. He honestly looks like a very, very sad kicked puppy. Maybe a puppy that went through genetic modification, but a kicked puppy nonetheless. The notion alone of a genuinely upset Max has Sam's heart dropping low into his stomach, and he pulls max just that bit closer to him.</p><p>  Finally, with a stuttering breath, the lagomorph speaks. "I'm really sorry, Sam, I didn't wanna... I didn't wanna <em>hurt</em> <em>you</em> but I had to, you know?" He stutters, pulling himself out of the embrace and looking up at Sam, he continues on almost hysterically. "I... I told ya I couldn't do it, Sam," He sniffles and he's crying again now, wiping at his eyes feverishly before giving up and letting the tears fall freely. "But-- But you <em>asked</em> <em>me</em> <em>to</em> and ya told me that you <em>loved</em> <em>me</em> but you wanted to 'protect the city' that you care so much about," Sam doesn't miss the bitterness in his tone. "I told ya I didn't give a <em>shit</em> about the city, but you looked at me with those big ol' puppy dog eyes and told me that there was 'no other way'. But that... that <em>thing</em> destroying the city wasn't really you, but you.. you still asked me to--" His rant is broken off by a sob as he looks from his own gesturing hands back up to Sam's face, etched with concern and confusion.</p><p>  "And I <em>did</em>, Sam..." Max says, voice quiet and choked with desperation and disbelief, like he couldn't believe what he had done. Like he was trying to justify it all. "And you... you <em>waved goodbye</em> to me." A pause, once more, and a little laugh at the absolute insanity of it all. "Then you, you... <em>died</em> and you were <em>gone</em>." He continues on in a fevered frenzy, "And we, we tried <em>everything</em> Sam, just everything. When they told me there was nothin' to be done... I held my gun to their heads and swore I'd shoot if they didn't fix this! I even cried and screamed but it got me nowhere. You were <em>gone</em>, Sam, you were dead and I had killed you." He stops then, looking down at his hands again and then back up to Sam. He knows there's a gap in Max's story. He knows, personally, that after Max's unkind departure, he had just walked off, trudging to the view of the ocean and staring off into space. He had hardly any time at all to come to his senses when that elevator had appeared and his little buddy stepped out of it. But, for Max, he knows it couldn't have been that simple. That <em>easy</em>, if you could call watching your best friend die horrifically and tragically <em>easy</em>.</p><p>  Max sniffles and chuckles bitterly, wiping at his eyes despite the tears continuing to come and wet his fur. "I... I couldn't do it without ya, Sam. I went home and it was just so... empty." His little nose twitches, and the canine would feel a rush of adoration if not for that broken look on his usually cheerful buddy's face. He continues, talking so quickly that Sam almost struggles to follow. "Still <em>smelled</em> like you, like those old library books or somethin', and I... I just laid in our bed. It was <em>raining</em>-- it was still <em>raining</em> but you were gone and <em>everything thing hurt</em> but--" Max's breathing is rapid and shallow, seemingly run out of air since the staggered beginning of his tirade, and Sam wants to hold him but he can't find it in him to move. Max gulps in a breath of air. "But I-- I was out of bullets." He chokes the last few words out like a bitter cough, a sickening silence hanging in the room like molasses in the summer as the rabbit stares at his hands again, shaking and twitching.</p><p>  Sam swears he could cut the tension with a knife, and he swallows down the stone in his throat. There's a lasting minute of silence before Max wraps his arms around himself and looks, almost ashamed, to his side, gaze averted from Sam's face that's fallen into a quiet expression of shock. The canine gulps. "You... you were out of bullets?" He's surprised at the own shake in his voice, almost a whisper at this point. Like a scolded child, Max sighs and nods, not moving his persistent gaze from the bed sheets. His voice steadies itself as he continues to speak, even more hushed than Sam's own quiet, daunting realization. "I couldn't do it, Sam, not without you. You're <em>it</em>, Sam, you're all I have and I... I didn't wanna be without you..." The desperate linger is back in the lagomorph's voice, like he's trying to justify himself again, and Sam doesn't know who exactly the justification is for between the both of them.</p><p>  Max whimpers when Sam reaches a hand out to Max's cheek, resting it there. "Couldn't be without you..." He lays his small hand on top Sam's and grasps it, taking in another shaky breath before continuing, sounding absolutely drained. "The elevator, it was broken but I... but I fixed it eventually. Didn't uh, take too long, really. Another day or so." He laughs again. His little buddy's always had a very odd sort of humor. "I was only without ya for a couple a' days and I seriously considered finding some more bullets and takin' another shot at blowin' my brains out." He laughs weakly, and Sam finds no humor in it.</p><p>  The dog still can't wrap his head around this morbid confession, voice no more than a whisper. It's still thundering, he notices, and Max winces ever so slightly at the particularly strong booms and screws his eyes shut, as if trying to shut the storm out completely. "You... you really tried to...?" He can't even complete the thought. Max nods.</p><p>  Sam wants to cry, scream, maybe even shoot something, but instead he removes his hand from Max's face and his soft grasp. Max opens his eyes, but before the loss of the other's grip can register, Sam tugs him back into his chest. He holds on, tighter this time around, and places his snout on Max's head, the other's ears drooping downwards and his body relaxing. "I'm not going anywhere, little buddy." Sam can feel some of the tension leave his little friend's body as he sighs contently, one hand on Sam's arm and one on his back. He can't quite reach all the way around, but Sam gets the picture.</p><p>  Max is more quiet than ever, and it fills Sam with a suffocating sense of dread. Hearing his little buddy so quiet is almost as disturbing as seeing him cry, and it reminds him all too much of the hour or so after Max died. This whole ordeal in itself has reminded him too much of those moments. He reminds himself his little buddy is still there, warm and safe in his arms by placing a peck on his fluffy white head, and earns a giggle from Max. "What, Sam," His little lagomorph friend inquires, breaking the silence. "You gettin' soft on me?" Sam scoffs, laying back down in the bed and pulling the sleepy Max on top of him, drawing the blankets over them both. "Don't think so, little buddy, you just had that look of 'starved-for-affection' on your cute little face." Max presses himself up from the bed, sitting up and flicking him playfully on the nose. "Hey! Are you callin' me needy?" With a chuckle, Sam pulls Max back down towards him and places another smooch on his forehead.</p><p>  Muttering in mock-discontent, the rabbit nuzzles his way back into the other's chest. "Of course not, Max, just implying it." He chuckles, the weight in his stomach finally dissipating when he sees Max finally drift off. He knew that they would have to continue this conversation eventually, but for right now, they were both exhausted. That, and he was really enjoying seeing Max smile again.</p>
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